


There Are Vibes

by Scrunyuns



Category: Succession (TV 2018)
Genre: (especially not Tom’s), (which will be resolved eventually dont you worry), DISCLAIMER: any views espoused by characters in this work are not necessarily the author’s own, HR who???, Internalized Homophobia, Jealousy, M/M, Mutual Pining, Open Relationships, Paranoia, Possessive Behavior, Sexual Repression, TW: millennials, Tom rly said stupid sexy Greg, Unresolved Sexual Tension, Work gossip, but hey thats tomgreg!, wherein the author irresponsibly romanticizes a deeply fucked up relationship
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-25
Updated: 2021-03-12
Packaged: 2021-03-13 14:47:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 8,206
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29652921
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Scrunyuns/pseuds/Scrunyuns
Summary: When Tom had decided to skim through the employee emails, he hadn’t expected to find people speculating about him and Greg.
Relationships: Greg Hirsch/Tom Wambsgans, mentions of Shiv/Tom
Comments: 32
Kudos: 56





	1. Productivity Control

When Tom moves into the ATN offices, one of the very first things he sets out to do is to skim through the employee emails. 

It’s not really ethical but it _is_ technically legal, stipulated right there in the company policy. A lot of new employees don’t actually read the small print when they sign their contracts, and either way you have to be fluent in legalese to catch it.

Thankfully for Tom, he is fluent; coming from a family of lawyers, legalese is practically his mother tongue. He knows that he simply needs to provide ample reason for the monitoring, if ever asked - which he probably won’t be, unless there’s a lawsuit. He’ll just say some vague shit like “I merely like to check my new boat for cracks before I put her out on the water.” He could drop some industry lingo like “department streamlining” and “productivity control,” and it wouldn’t even be lying. Not as such.

But his primary objective, of course, is to find out what his new employees are saying about him.

  
  


He uses his emergency laptop for this purpose. It just feels safer somehow, a bit more clandestine. Putting ‘Tom’ in as a searchword, he scrolls through paragraph upon paragraph of friendly work talk and other svada that vaguely refers to him. 

Then his eye finally catches on something:

> _ >> I know I’ve literally just met Tom, but I already feel pretty confident about diagnosing him with vagina envy and halitosis. _

  
  


Tom is seething. _Which uppity little cockring wrote that?_

He scrolls up.

> _From: gabe.gutierrez@atn.com_
> 
> _To: kay.ayodele@atn.com_

  
  


Ah, of course... the two millennial diversity hires from visuals. The plump nerd with the colorful socks and his lesbian bestie. Figures.

The email thread goes on:

> _ >> oh you mean Kidz Bop Patrick Bateman? my god DON’T GET ME STARTED. I mean whats with the fucking suspenders_

> _ >> lol LITERALLY!!! And he seems like he can’t decide if he wants to be cool boss or mean boss, he just swings wildly between the two. Like last week I missed my niece’s clarinet recital because he had us working overtime, and then after the weekend he comes over and tries to do small talk like he wants to be all buddy buddy? I do not fucking think so chief 😒_
> 
> _ >> And like I’m not a big Cyd stan or anything but was this move really necessary?_

> _ >> right?? the nepotism of it all… like yeah we get it, u and the heiress are pretending to be in love so you get thr big office with a view. nice job pulling yourself up by your bootstraps there Mr. Fivehead _

  
  


Tom bites the inside of his cheek.

_So this is what they’re doing on company time, huh? And in plain sight, too!_

  
  


You would think they’d just use Facebook Messenger on their phones for this shit, like everyone else. They really can’t have read the company policy. A lot of younger employees don’t seem to bother, Tom has noticed; most millennials tend to zone out as soon as they’re forced to read further than a paragraph.

They’re probably thinking they’re being real fucking clever, acting like they’re not slacking off by avoiding the use of their personal devices. Acting like they’re doing actual work instead of just spreading a bunch of cruel slander and misinformation.

_And what does that mean anyway, “pretending to be in love”?_ Tom asks himself. _These little shits don’t know the first thing about me and Shiv!_

The sheer gall of it has got Tom steaming. He knows he shouldn’t read anymore, it’ll only make him even more angry… but he simply cannot help himself.

One sentence jumps out at Tom. It smashes clean through the computer screen like a fist and punches him right in the junk:

> _ >> Do you think he fucks that dopey assistant of his? _

  
  


The wind is knocked out of him for a few seconds.

_Me and… Greg? Cousin Greg? Greg the Egg? He can’t be serious._

  
  


First of all, he is not gay. Greg might be - he could be straight, gay, bi, asexual, what have you, who the fuck really knows - but Tom is decidedly not. He has a wife, for God’s sake. Not that that’s necessarily any solid indicator… except that for him it totally is. And anyway, even if he were to entertain the notion of having a passionate affair with another man, it certainly wouldn’t be _Greg._

  
  


Heart thumping, Tom scrolls further down. He hopes to see Kay responding to her friend with incredulity, to disavow Gabe of his ridiculous, uneducated opinion.

But no such luck.

> _ >> GABE!!!!!!! OH MY GOD!!!!!_
> 
> _> > yeah absolutely tho. there’s this weird energy going on there for sure. and theyboth seem super fucking gay to me (but tbf most people do if I’m gonna get all armchair psychologist about it) _

  
  


Tom slams his laptop shut.

His first impulse is to throw the damn thing out the window, but he manages to calm himself before it gets to that.

_Settle down, Tom. It’s nothing. They’re nothing. Nobodies. Just a pair of disgruntled minions, envious of all your success and good fortune, airing their grievances. Breathe._

He inhales deeply through his nose before continuing.

> _ >> Oh thank god, I thought it was just me who had noticed 😩 I mean this is ATN, fucking Toxic Male Central, every single one of the top brass have female assistants except this guy. Sus af!!!_

> _> >yeah at first I thought that was Tom tryna be progressive or whatever but then I talked to _ _that stretched-out boyscout (is his name Greg? I can’t recall) and inside that guy’s skull it’s just a fistful of packing peanuts. so like does he have amazing dick sucking game or??? lmao 😂😂😂😂_

  
  


Well, that’s simply not fair. Not fair at all. Tom had merely reached out to a struggling family member. That’s all. Nothing weird.

And Greg isn’t that bad of an assistant, not really. He just fucks up a lot. Most assistants do… well, perhaps not any of the assistants Tom has had previously, but he’s sure there must be plenty of assistants that consistently get their bosses’ coffee order wrong. He’s certain that even Jess has at some point gotten Kendall a coffee with oat milk instead of regular skim.

Greg is fine. Greg is _family._

  
  


That’s typical millennials for you, though; always acting like they’re so fucking “woke”, but as soon as they see a man having a male assistant, suddenly they’re all about those gender stereotypes that they claim to eschew.

_Well, fuck em,_ he thinks. _I’m gonna make their lives a living hell._


	2. Classified Information

> _> > So guess who made me work the fucking weekend AGAIN._

A diabolical grin spreads across Tom’s face as he reads those sweet, sweet words.

He’s at it again, but this time he’s filtered it to only include conversations between Kay and Gabe, specifically. It’s research; he wants to know what kind of filth they’ve been spreading, and what he can do to stop it. No other agenda, really.

> _ >> hmmm whoever could it be? /s _

> _ >> My team presented our new layouts for the evening news and we got feedback from Anderson saying we needed to rework the whole fucking thing over the weekend because “Tom didn’t dig it”_
> 
> _> > And apparently he wants it done by Monday morning so 😑🔫_

> _> > man I’m sorry :( so I guess the Farmer’s Market is off then huh :( :(_

  
  


Tom can feel his spirit being lifted.

_Suck it, peasants._

He has been looking for something to cheer him up all afternoon; earlier that day, he’d lost his mind about his latte being too cold and had given Greg a good chewing out over it.

Of course, he had felt silly about it immediately after, as he may have blown it just a tiny smidge out of proportion and as some of the insults hurled at his assistant had perhaps cut a bit too deep. Greg had looked genuinely hurt, like a kicked puppy, and it had really messed with Tom’s mood for the rest of the day.

So to finally be able to savor the fruits of his efforts to punish the snotty little pricks who had been gossiping about him… yeah, that really perks him right up.

Now drunk with power, Tom gleefully reads on.

> _ >> Yeah, looks like it. I’m sorry. This sucks._

> _ >> don’t worry bby we can do it some other time I guess_

> _ >> Like sometimes I honestly wonder why I’m still working here. I mean the money is great but the hours fucjing blow and they treat us like shit so is it even worth it?? And I don’t even share their politics?? 😩 HELP_

> _ >> yeah been thinking the same thing. they dont even have dental, like what kinda fuckery_
> 
> _ >> but hey this might make u feel better: who do you think tops? Tom or Greg?_
> 
> _> > I rly need your scholarly perspective on this _

Tom’s smile drops like a lead sinker.

_Those little shits!_

> _ >> Oooh boy tough question. I mean Greg looks a lot like a total bottom obviously but then again… Tom is so desperate for everyone to think that he’s The Man, you know? To me that just screams closet pillow princess._
> 
> _ >> So neither, I think? Can I say neither?? _

_Neither?!_ _You gotta be fucking joking._

Tom is the top, obviously - or he would be, if he and Greg were indeed fucking. Which they are not. So this is really a non-issue. And as for ‘pillow princess’, he is not quite sure what it means but he sincerely doubts that it’s in any way accurate.

He really has to wonder, why are these people so obsessed with him and Greg? Maybe he’s not giving them enough work to do. But now it would appear that his attempt to thwart their wanton abuse of the company email by making them work more has backfired on him, only resulting in more shitflinging. And their vile speculations seem to be escalating, too, becoming increasingly sordid in nature. So maybe punishing them with hard work is not the solution at all.

Against all his common sense and self respect, Tom continues his intrepid spy game.

> _ >> hey maybe they just scissor each other?_

> _ >> KAY!!!!!!!!!! I hate you so much. Oh my god._

> _ >> they just slap their flat white boy asses together Gabe u know its true_

> _ >> Okay this conversation is over. Thanks for somehow making my weekedn WORSE with that mental image. Goodbye._

  
  


Slamming his laptop shut with brute force, Tom comes damn close to breaking it.

He can’t believe those little maggots. Here they are, sitting pretty at ATN, getting great salaries - including comprehensive medical! - and they have the fucking gall to talk about their boss like that?

_I should have them both fired._

He can’t, of course, at least not without justifiable cause. But maybe he can just cook some shit up... or better yet; he can have his trusty Pigman put his snout to the ground again.

  
  


_—_

“Knock, knock! Ahah.”

“Oh hey, Tom.”

Greg straightens his back and smoothes down his hair, swiveling around to look up at his boss.

“Better finish up your little game of solitaire,” Tom tells him, “because I have a job for you.”

His assistant says nothing, just gives him a pointed look.

“What? What is it now?”

“Like, this morning...” Greg starts, tentatively. “You um. You said some pretty, uh, pretty uncharitable stuff? About me? And like, I don’t think I’m being at all, you know, overbold when I say that... like, you owe me an apology, perhaps?”

Tom blinks back at him.

“Oh, come on, Greg!” he chuckles. “Have a sense of humor, will ya!”

With a withering look, Greg turns back to work on his computer, giving his boss the silent treatment.

_Well, I’ll be goddamned... This boy is getting real big for his britches, huh?_

Tom is perplexed; the rough-and-tumble corporate culture had never been a problem for Greg before. Or at least, he’d never said anything about it.

Sighing, Tom decides to swallow his pride for the sake of their friendship (and indeed, for the sake of keeping Greg as his obedient servant). He pulls up a nearby chair and sits.

“Alright, fine,” he finally concedes. “I’m man enough to admit that my response to the disappointment of a cold coffee had been somewhat... disproportionate.”

Greg turns to him with pursed lips and a frown, still not softening up.

“You said, uh, if I recall correctly, that I was a medical marvel as the first human to be born with a blob of aspic where my brain ought to be.”

Tom winces; it had not been one of his finer moments, certainly.

“And,” Greg continues, “that you could like, get more use out of me by selling me off to a sideshow.”

_God. How can that boy retain all this information, the way he smokes?_

“You, uh... Hah. You sure got a great memory card up there, don’t ya Greg?”

Tom tries with a sheepish little laugh, attempting to lighten the mood. But much to his disappointment, his assistant does not join in on the laughing.

“I thought you said it was just a blob of aspic, Tom,” Greg replies dryly.

He proceeds to stare up at the fluorescent lights above his head, twirling his thumbs demonstratively.

“Look, Greg,” Tom says, finally caving, “I know I was outta line.”

Tom rests his hand on his assistant’s bony shoulder, giving it a bit of a squeeze. He tries to look him in the eye, with the sincere hope that his face conveys a sufficient amount of regret.

“I’m real sorry, okay?” he adds.

“Okay...” Greg shrugs. “Apology accepted. I guess.”

_Oh, thank God._

“So we buds again, then?”

“Yeah, sure.”

“Good. Because I need your help.”  
  


Greg’s thick eyebrows suddenly shoot skyward.

“Is that why you apologized?” he asks. “Because uh, in that case, like... I withdraw my acceptance of your apology. Acceptance revoked.”

“No, Greg, I meant it. I did. But I also really, really, really do need your help.”

Greg sighs, looking down at his costly Oxford shoe scuffing against the carpet.

“What is it,” he mutters.

Tom peers around the office for anyone who might be eavesdropping. Then he gets in close.

“You know Kay and Gabriel?” he asks, his voice barely audible over employee smalltalk and the tapping of keys. “From visuals?”

“Uhhh... oh yeah, I’ve had a chat with them over my lunch break a couple times, I think. Nice people.”

Tom shakes his head.

“No, they’re not, Greg. They’re not nice.”

“They’re not?” his assistant asks, looking bewildered.

“No. And I want you to help me snuffle out some dirt that I can use.”

Greg frowns.

“For what, exactly?”

“What do you think, Greg?” Tom sighs.

“What, to fire them?”

His voice goes a bit too loud then, and it makes his boss cringe.

“Jesus Chr- Greg, for fuck’s sake, keep your voice down…” Tom frowns and tuts at him. “But yes, if you must know, it’s to fire them. Find out if they’re, I dunno… smoking in the toilets, stealing stationary, whatever. Just give me _something_.”

Greg shakes his head.

“I don’t know, Tom, I mean this seems highly unethical…”

“Unethical?” Tom parrots. “Oh, it’s unethical, is it? Is it at odds with one of your many so-called principles?”

His assistant sighs again.

“Man, it’s like, not cool-“

“Yeah well, it’s not cool to shred incriminating documents either, is it?” Tom hisses under his breath. “But you did that, didn’t you?”

Greg’s big blue eyes are incredulous and accusatory.

“Yeah, dude, because _you_ made me!”

_Fair play, Gregory._

“Okay, let’s not- alright, listen.” Tom puts his hand on Greg’s knee, making his assistant’s eyes go even wider. “How about… you do this for me, and I give you a little bonus. Ah?”

For a few unbearable seconds Greg goes real quiet and still, his expression now entirely unreadable, his face an enigma.

“Alright,” he eventually says, with yet another heavy sigh. “How much?”

“Attaboy,” Tom grins, squeezing his thigh. “How does five thousand sound?”

“I guess.”

Greg doesn’t look very pleased, despite just having made himself five grand richer.

“What?” Tom asks.

“Like... why are you going after two of the, uh, very few... like, non-white people in this office? Doesn’t that seem, I dunno, like kinda fucked up to you?”

The comment is like a slap in the face.

“It’s not- Greg, that’s not why I’m going after them!” Tom scoffs. “Frankly, I’m offended that you even think that of me.”

“Yeah well, what is it about them that’s got you all fired up, then?”

_Oh, nothing much. Just them saying that the two of us are scissoring._

“That’s classified information, Greg.”

“Oh, okay, sure,” Greg says, rolling his eyes. “Classified...”

Tom rolls his eyes right back at him.

“Just be a good boy and do as you’re told, alright?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Attaboy.”


	3. Avoidance

Days and weeks pass, and Greg keeps leaving him hanging. The kid can’t seem to get anything really solid on his two targets - it’s almost starting to look like a deliberate effort to fail. Tom wouldn’t put it past him.

_Ungrateful little brat. Even after I saved his scrawny ass in Hungary._

It would appear the bastards are beyond reproach; always showing up to work on time, consistently turning in good product, etcetera. The best that Tom’s got on them at the moment is sending personal emails on company time, and even that infraction wouldn’t necessarily warrant a sacking. Plus, he is quite happy to keep those emails between the three of them; Tom is not particularly keen on the idea of giving the rest of the world cause for wild speculation about him and his assistant. Even if it is just that: wild speculation.

And all the while, he has to deal with seeing them write this filth back and forth… well, he doesn’t _have_ to, exactly.

But, you know. He kind of does.

> _ >> Greg was hanging over me today, asking all sorts of weird questions. Like, doesn’t Gordon Gaykko give u enough shit to do around here?? lol_

> _ >> ugh he’s been doing the same to me. so annoying _

_Oh, so he is actually trying, then._

Tom smiles; he is pleasantly surprised, albeit exasperated at Greg’s complete lack of tact and finesse.

> _ >> I mean he’s always been a bit weird but he’s been like extra weird lately right? What’s up with that? Seems real sus, maybe we should be watching our backs. _
> 
> _ >> Thankfully Tom came and saved me from him. “I need you, Greg” (gaaaay) plus the usual borderline sexual touching like YIKES_

> _ >> He really is all over Greg constantly huh? keep waiting for them to just start eating each other out right there in the breakroom 🤢_

  
  


_Oh, fuck off,_ Tom thinks. _I am not all over him._

_...Am I?_

> _ >> Kay maybe we should go to HR? Like I’m really starting to see it now and it’s getting a bit too much. The vibes are palpable. Ya jnow this kind of thing can escalate quickly and idk about you but I bear no ill will towards Greg, likr he’s nice enough I guess._

> _ >> and ruin my fun?? yeah nah. knowing how these places work they prolly wont do shit about it anyway. also I’m pretty sure Greg’s mad into it tbh _

Tom has to do a doubletake on that line. 

> _> > 😱 You think? 😱_

> _ >> UH YEAH HAVE YOU SEEN HIS BODY LANGUAGE??? coy af. Slenderboy wants that Bossman Dick im telling u _

  
  


Now Tom is really starting to sweat.

_Are they being serious? Does Greg..? Is he..?_

Could it be that Greg has been aching for him all this time, staring at him from across the room and wishing he would make the first move?

Tom looks back on the times they’ve spent together, all the times he’s asked loaded questions and made Greg blush, all the times Tom has let his fingers brush against his, all the times he’s caught a certain glance or smile.

_Oh no._

“Down, boy,” he hisses at his own crotch.

But another realization soon hits: Kay and Gabriel could have sussed out that he’s been monitoring their emails. It’s entirely possible. Maybe they’re just trying to fuck with his head at this point, trying to make him put his foot in it.

  
  


_Well, I’m not falling for that._

  
  


_—_

  
  


There’s a soft knock on Tom’s office door.

“Enter!” he bellows.

Greg pokes his head in.

“Hey, um. Do you have a minute?”

It is tempting to say no. He’d really rather not see his assistant right now, what with everything... his recent revelations. But appearances do need to be kept up, don’t they?

Clearing his throat, Tom nods and gestures for Greg to step inside. 

“Sure,” he says. “What can I do ya for, buddy?”

Greg hovers by the door for a minute, looking unsure.

“Well, uh, I just…” he starts, nervously fiddling with the knot on his tie. “Have you, like, been avoiding me?”

_Well, yes._ _Because lately I can’t look at your face without thinking about you and me playing a game of nude Twister._

“Uh, no?” Tom lies, hoping that the look on his face is convincingly confused. “I don’t think so? Just been busy, I guess?”

“Okay, ‘cause like… normally you come to my cubicle like several times a day, and you haven’t-“

“Oh, have you been missing me, Gregory?”

His assistant simply gapes back at him, visibly flustered.

_Fuck. That’s exactly the kind of gay shit I shouldn’t be saying to him, isn’t it?_ If Kay or Gabe had overheard that, they would’ve had a field day, he knows it.

“Did you need anything in particular, Greg?” he backtracks. “Or are you just here to waste my time?”

“No, I… I’m just checking in. But you’re okay, so…”

“Yeah, I’m perfect, Greg. Thank you. Goodbye now.”

It looks like the dismissal takes a few seconds to sink in, Greg standing there blinking at him like a confused dog expecting a treat.

“Okay, um. Bye.”

From the corner of his eye, Tom watches him go. 

Whatever this feeling is, welling up inside of him right now, he pushes it down. It takes a great deal of force. Tom feels a bit like he’s sitting on an overstuffed suitcase.

  
  


He avoids Greg for the rest of the week.


	4. Unprofessional Behavior

> _> > Mommy, I’ve been bad._

> _ >> what have you done now ya big dumb slut 🤦‍♀️_

> _ >> I may have floated the idea to Horny Steve from IT that Greg is one of us. And I may have told a tiny white lie that he’s a hoe and down to clown with pretty much whoever (even sweaty creeps like him)._

> _ >> U LIL FUCKER :O _
> 
> _ >> and????_

> _ >> And thaf he should flirt with him and ask him out. In front of Tom._

> _ >> IN FRONT OF TOM??!?!?!? _

> _ >> Well, I didn’t say that specifically but I kinda nudged him to go for it in the break room, and Tom just happened to be around._

> _ >> listen if I was around I would throw my stapler at ur head _
> 
> _ >> so what happened tho_

> _ >> I’m so devastated you weren’t there, you woulda gotten a real kick out of seeing Tom’s face 😩 Ypu know in old cartoons when people get so angry their heads turn into a steaming coffee pot? He was like that. _

> _ >> *chinhands* MORE DETAILS BITCH_

> _ >> He was in full alpha male mode you shoulda seen him!! _
> 
> _> > Can’t remember what he said exactly and I couldn’t catch all of it anyway but his body language was like a gorilla lol._
> 
> _> > He basically gave Steve a verbal spanking about like “unprofessional behavior” (he’s one to talk lol) and then he grabbed Greg’s arm and marched him outta there._

> _ >> oh my god. you think he’s locked Greg away in his gothic tower now?_

> _ >> Probably!! lmao_

> _ >> you are extremely evil for this.using Horny Steve for your own entertainment. sickening. I would never dream of doing something like that_

> _ >> Haha SURE JAN. Anyway yeah I am sickening, thanks 😘 Maybe now he’ll think twice about being so openly horny at work._

> _ >> well idk about that, I mean this sure seems like the place for it? I feel like every other day there’s some dude being openly horny in this gd Gentleman’s Club of an office_
> 
> _ >> but hey next time ur planning to pull some shit like that, at least give a girl a heads up so i can go fetch my opera glasses 👀_

  
  


Tom sinks back into his chair, deflating like a popped balloon.

_They got me. The motherfuckers got me._

He feels like such a dickhead, stepping right into it like that. How embarrassing of him, getting all territorial over somebody taking an interest in Greg. It’s not like he has any claim to him. Why would he? They’re not dating.

 _I just wanted to protect him,_ Tom tells himself.

But it had all been fairly innocent, really; “Hey, how are ya? Doing anything this weekend?” That kind of stuff. A bit of elbow touching, nothing too bad. Obviously not very professional, and sort of pushy, but nothing that Tom hasn’t seen about a million times before from coworkers who have set their sights on some cute little assistant or intern.

Not that he thinks Greg is cute, mind you. Steve might, but word around the office is that guy will fuck anything with a pulse (or even without a pulse, some might say).

No, Tom doesn’t think Greg is cute, of course he doesn’t... Greg looks stupid. He looks like a reject from the porcelain doll factory. He looks like the freak of nature that would come slithering out of a giraffe after a night of unbridled passion with a French mime.

And all those weird, unfortunate boners he’s been getting lately? He’ll chalk that up to Shiv being neglectful of him. She does work too much, and it’s certainly been affecting their marriage.

  
  


But once again, Tom’s behavior has been willfully misinterpreted by these modern day court jesters. It’s almost as if they’re _trying_ to get the wrong idea, fishing for more material to fuel their childish jokes about him and Greg. Talking all this dumb shit about how Tom has “locked him away in a tower”...

_Shit, maybe I should._

_—_

  
  


“Fucking shit,” Tom mutters under his breath as he violently pushes every single button on the photocopier. “Useless fucking hunk’a junk…”

Greg comes down the hallway and stops when he sees him struggling.

“You alright there, Tom?” he asks. “Need some, uh, need some assistance?”

“Where’ve you been?” Tom bellows. “I’ve been looking all over for you! I need you to make copies for me.”

“You asked me to go get you a latte?” Greg says, holding out a paper cup.

“Oh. Right.”

“Yeah, there was a long line so like, I kinda got stuck? Sorry.”

Nodding, Tom accepts the coffee and the apology, but he still gives his assistant a thoroughly annoyed look.

“Just help me with this fucking thing, will ya?”

“Sure, um…” Greg squeezes past him and peers down at the display. “Oh, it’s just out of paper.”

“It’s not!” Tom exclaims, frustrated beyond belief. “I checked!”

Removing his jacket and rolling up his sleeves, Greg bends down and opens the paper compartment at the bottom of the copier. He soon finds that Tom is indeed telling the truth.

“Ya see?”

“You probably just need to, um, shove it further in. Y’know, for the sensors or whatever? These machines are pretty stupid. They like, they need to be spoon-fed, basically.”

While his lanky assistant hangs over the open drawer, fiddling with the paper, Tom’s mind drifts and his eyes settle on Greg’s backside.

He considers how the thin fabric of those slacks hangs loosely around his legs but seems to hug his round little bottom just right. There’s not much there, of course, but what little there is looks quite firm and bouncy. _Like a pair of tangerines in a handkerchief,_ Tom muses. He reckons one of those cheeks could fit neatly into the palm of his hand…

He only realizes that he’s been staring when Greg finally stands up. Averting his eyes, embarrassed at himself now, Tom tries to look at literally anything but Greg’s firm little rump.

And as he looks out into the hallway, he happens to lock eyes with a passing employee:

None other than Kay from visuals.

  
  


_Oh, fuuuuuuuuuck._

  
  


_—_

  
  
Tom sits in his office, skulling his latte, refreshing the page over and over again. Shouldn’t be long, now.

When a new email finally pops up, his guts are in a knot.

> _ >> hey heyyy guess who I caught ogling his fucking assistant just now 💅_

“Fuck,” Tom hisses to himself, wishing the ground would open up under his feet and swallow him up. “Fuck fuck fuckfuck fuck.”

He ought to look away.

But instead, he refreshes the page again.

> _ >> NO!!!_

> _> > YES BITCH_

Tom shuts his laptop and puts it back in his drawer.

_Some work’ll do me good,_ he thinks. _Get my mind off it. Just some good, old fashioned... business._

But when he opens his unread emails about analytics and quarterlies and settlements and whatever else, trying to make sense of it all, the words just start to blur together on the page... and soon, all he can see is a pair of grey slacks containing a pert little ass.

_Goddammit all._

_I have to know what they’re saying._

Grabbing his laptop in a huff, Tom opens it and refreshes the page again.

Now there’s an entire thread:

> >> Good God, well okay so what happened?

> _> > so they were at the photocopier and Greg bent over to fix something and Tom fully like popped a hard-on right there istg_

> _ >> That doesn’t make any sense, the boy does not have an ass. Like thats 100% grassfed white boy ass right there._

> _ >> well oaky maybe I’m exaggerating but either way Tom was LOOKING. and then he noticed that I had noticed and he just looked real embarrassed, it was so fuckign cringe aaaaaah _
> 
> _ >> also I found out just the other day that Grg is the Roy’s COUSIN so like. extra escandalo :O_

> _ >> What, for real?? Wow okay... well that makes this whole thing like 1000x more fucked up._
> 
> _> > Would_ _you like some incest with that nepotism? lmao_

> _ >> bruuuh imagine Tom trying to get Greg under the mistletoe at Roy Family Christmas hahaa 🎄😘🍆🍑 hey lil cousin lemme whisper in ya ear_

> _ >> DON’T. _
> 
> _ >> You know I reallt don’t think I can take much more if this Kay. These mfs should just fuck or get off the pot, honestly._

  
Tom hastily shuts his laptop.

He pushes it all the way to the side of his desk, in a vain attempt to put some distance between himself and all those terrible, terrible lies.

_Fuck or get off the pot._

_Fuck or get off the pot._

_Fuck or get off the pot._

The echo of those words will continue to haunt him for the rest of the day.


	5. Tech Safety 101

It’s been a rough week. And Tom knows quite well that it’s only bound to get rougher if he keeps reading these damn emails.

But God help him, he just can’t stop picking at this scab.

> _ >> Hey just checking in. You okay? Didn’t see ypu at lunch._

> _> > yeah good, just been to see Abigail. u?_

> _ >> I’m okay, thanks. Abi’s good. I’m surprised they actually shelled out for her, like I thought the ATN line is that PTSD is only for Vietnam vets?? lol_

> _ >> prolly just for the optics right? least they could do tho, when they couldn’t even be bothered to let us have a real panic room 😒_
> 
> _> > like apparently the gods on mount olympus had one. meanwhile I was ducking and covering under my fucking desk like I’m in some gd safety video from the 50s_

> _> > Right??? Like I mean it wasn’t actually a terrorist situation but it coulda been! What about next time, you know??_

> _> > istg if I didn’t need insulin and a place to live I’d just fucking quit_
> 
> _> > pop a squat on Tom’s desk before I go, leave him a fragrant parting gift lmao 💋💩_

> _> > God that reminds me, get this shit: I spoke to Meg in accounting and she was in the safe room with Pinky & The Brain when all that shit was going down._
> 
> _> > She told me that Greg asked to be moved to another dept and Tom had THROWN WATER BOTTLES at the poor guy!_

  
  


_Great, that’s just great,_ Tom thinks. _More traitors in the ranks, huh?_

Well, Meg is ripe for a demotion anyway; she keeps calling in sick, and she complains loudly about her salary. Word on the street is she’s been talking to her coworkers about unionizing, too. The sheer audacity! The only thing worse than a malingerer is an _entitled_ malingerer.

  
  


Fuming now, Tom reads on.

> _ >> OKAY???? the fuck????_

> _ >> Yeah, apparently it was super fucked up and also kinda gay (no surprise there). Apparently Tom had said something like “I won’t let you leave me, you’re mine” or whatever._
> 
> _> > Dude almost CRIED._

  
  


Well, that is simply untrue. Or maybe not untrue, as such… but misconstrued, certainly.

Tom has to laugh; it’s funny how something can be taken so severely out of context. Yes, he had used words like ‘breaking up.’ Yes, he had almost cried. Yes, he had kind of referred to Greg as ‘his.’ Yes, he had lost his mind at the thought of his assistant-slash-best-friend leaving him... but a little violent hysterical episode does not a gay man make!

It had simply been an accumulation of a bunch of things, and his complicated relationship with his wife was at the center of it all. Tom can see that. But sure, to an outside observer it could perhaps be interpreted as him being somewhat ‘obsessed’ with Greg… but that’s just not the case, though.

Oh well. What else can one really expect from a pair of matcha-sipping, emoji-slinging snowflakes who don’t even know how to use proper punctuation or spell check their emails?

> >> _okay that is lowkey some Phil Spector type shit lmao what the fuck_

> _> > I tell ya, this is exactly the kinda shit that happens when men stay repressed. _ _Like he reminds me of my high school bully who asked me to blow him in the bathrooms. It’s literally that exact energy. Sad._
> 
> _> > I’m worried for the beanstalk boy 😔 Molly u in danger, girl!!!_

Tom winces; his stomach hurts now.

He grabs a painkiller from his desk, washes it down with some water, and keeps reading.

> _ >> alright well if I’d been in that room I woulda been eating my own body weight in popcorn lol_
> 
> _> > Gabe u and me are going for drinks tonight because you have got to tell me every last fucking detail 📝👀_

  
  
The correspondence stops there.

Tom is made queasy by the mere thought of those two town criers sitting around talking shit about him and Greg over espresso martinis after hours... talking about something they don’t even understand, _loudly,_ and in a place where Tom can’t be around to eavesdrop on them.

And there will be plenty of other people listening in, he’s sure. Perhaps even someone he knows. Perhaps somebody important.

_God fucking dammit._  
  


_—_

“Hey, Tom?”

He looks up from his work to find Greg loitering in the doorway, even more hunched over than usual, looking awkward and uncertain.

Ever since the safe room incident, his young protégé has been acting odd and aloof around him - even after Tom had given him plenty of recompense and incentive to stay.

“What’s up, Greg?”

Tom smiles widely, genially, eager to show him that, despite recent history, he really means no harm. Gabe’s words of concern are still fresh in his mind, and he’s determined to prove both him and Greg wrong.

“How are you finding your new office, buddy?”

“Yeah, it’s fine, thanks,” Greg hastily responds.

_Just fine? God. He fucking hates me now._

Well, can he really blame him? No. Does that mean it doesn’t still hurt like a bitch? Also no.

“Good, good,” Tom nods. “So, how can I help you?”

“Could I, uh, possibly borrow your spare laptop? My computer just froze and I couldn’t fix it myself and like, the nerd brigade are all occupied elsewhere, so-”

“Sure, it’s just in the bottom drawer here.”

“Thanks, man.”

Greg steps in, still hunched over a little bit. He crouches down by the side of Tom’s desk and pulls out the drawer. While he extracts the laptop and power cord, Tom tries not to think about how close Greg is right now. He is so fucking close to his thigh and his whole… downstairs business.

_So close. Almost touching._

_I could just reach out and... no. No, Tom. For fuck’s sake._

Then Greg looks up at him expectantly, as if he wants something but is too afraid to ask.

“Yes?” Tom says. “Did you need something else?”

He can feel his heart going a mile a minute inside his chest; he might be hoping for something here, although he’s not quite sure what.

Greg just bites his lip.

_“Please let me suck your cock, Tom.” No! None of those thoughts, you fucking pest._

“Can I, um, could I get the password?” Greg finally asks, and it makes Tom deflate a little bit.

“Oh. Yeah, sure. It’s just ‘password.’”

Greg frowns at him as he rises to his feet, tucking the laptop and cord under his arm.

“Just ‘password’?” he asks.

“Yes? And?”

“Well I mean, that… that doesn’t seem entirely secure, Tom? A strong password is like tech safety 101, dude.”

Tom lets out a weary sigh.

“Why don’t you worry your pretty little head about something else, huh? Like not spilling your cold brew all over my laptop? Okay, bud?”

“Oh-okay, well,” Greg stammers, visibly flustered now. “I uh... I shall be returning it to you momentarily.”

He nods with a nervous smile as he retreats backwards out the door, tucking a lock of hair behind his ear.

“I’ll um. I’ll bring it back in even better shape than I got it!”

“If you try and defragment my computer for me again, Greg, I’ll have your hide,” Tom shouts over his shoulder.

He tries to focus his attention back on his work, but their interaction has made him lose what little concentration he had left. The energy between them, it was just so… weird? Awkward? Intense. Palpable. Erotic? No. Maybe?

_“Don’t worry your pretty little head.”_

Tom has to scoff at himself. If Kay and Gabriel had caught that one, they would’ve lost their goddamn minds.

_Hold on._

Time seems to stop as Tom suddenly recalls his own movements.

His blood runs cold.

_The fucking emails._

  
  


He’d left them open the last time he’d closed his laptop.

“No. Fuck! No!”


	6. Insane, Inappropriate, Inadvisable

Booking it down the hallway to intercept his assistant, Tom nearly knocks over a coffee-laden intern.

“Sorry!” he yells over his shoulder.

No time to stop and help, though; there are bigger things at stake here than some lowly serf’s opinion of him.

  
  


But when he finally reaches Greg’s office, it is already too late.

The laptop is open and Greg is scrolling, scrolling, scrolling. The look on his face is unmistakably that of someone who’s just seen something they shouldn’t see; mouth slack, eyebrows almost up in his hairline.

_Fuck. Shit. No._

“Uh, Tom?” Greg asks, barely looking away from the screen. “Dude, have you- have you seen the stuff they’re saying about us?”

Tom can barely hear him over the sound of his own racing heart.

  
  


“You weren’t meant to read those.”

“Well, I didn’t mean to but like, it was just there when I opened your laptop and… like, my name jumped out at me, so-”

_God, no. Please God, no._

  
  


“Greg, I-“

“This is like… pretty explicit stuff, man. And these are company emails, right? Like you could probably, uh, reprimand them for this?”

“I know.”

Greg finally tears his eyes away from the emails to look at his boss.

“Is this why you wanted them fired?”

Tom shrugs.

“Have you shown this to anyone? HR or..?”

“No, uh… no, I haven’t.”

“Why not?”

“Guess I was embarrassed,” he mutters.

Greg doesn’t seem to catch that; he’s already gone back to his scrolling.

“Here it says you were ‘ogling’ my butt.” He turns to Tom again, but he doesn’t look accusatory, just kind of curious. “Were you?”

“No, Greg..! God.”

“Oh. Okay.”

_He sounds almost... disappointed?_

_Is he?_

Before his brain has time to react and stop his big stupid mouth, Tom blurts out:

“Would you be mad if I was?”

He can feel his whole face turning red, asking this. It’s a huge leap - a fucking _stupid_ leap. Tom imagines this is what Evel Knievel must have felt like, in those brief seconds before he sticks the landing, soaring through the air; he doesn’t know if he’s gonna triumph or eat asphalt.

The seconds start to feel like minutes, then hours.

_For the love of God, Greg, just fucking say something._

“Looking at your ass, I mean?” Tom adds, thinking that perhaps his young, naïve friend hadn’t quite understood the question.

Greg doesn’t respond, just keeps staring at the screen. He is still scrolling but Tom can tell from the way his pupils aren’t moving whatsoever, that he’s not actually reading any of it. It’s all just pretend.

He is stalling, thinking; weighing his words.

After a couple mortifying minutes, he eventually chances a look at Tom.

“Yeah, I mean, um,” he laughs nervously, “what’s a bit of butt-ogling between friends, right?”

There’s an awkward sideways smile plastered on his face as his hand goes to tuck away a lock of hair. Tom notices that he is starting to look a bit sweaty now. A bit flustered.

“Greg...” he starts, crossing his arms over his chest as he steps closer. “Do you _want_ me to look at your ass?”

Greg’s eyes are huge, invoking the image of a scared little bunny - which is actually not a bad look for him, Tom decides. Maybe he’s even a little bit cute.

“Do you, uh… do you _want_ me to want you to look at my ass?” Greg asks.

_So it’s a standoff, then. Is that what you want, Gregory?_

Tom just shrugs noncommittally; so maybe there is a vibe between them. _Fine. You win, Kay and Gabe._ But he’ll be damned if he’s gonna be the first one to acknowledge it.

“Forget it, it’s stupid,” Greg says, finally capitulating when he realizes he won’t be getting a straight answer. “Maybe I oughta go…”

He stands up to leave, but something comes over Tom then.

“No,” he says, hastily grabbing Greg’s skinny arm. “No, uh...”

Startled by this, Greg looks down at his boss’ hand around his bicep, then back at Tom’s face. His blue eyes are wide with anticipation; they seem to be saying _Please, just fucking kiss me._

“Not... not here, though,” Tom whispers.

Greg nods. Now he seems to understand precisely what his boss is saying, and for once Tom doesn’t have to spell everything out for him.

“So, um... where?”

  
  


—

  
  


The car ride to Tribeca isn’t long, not at this hour, but for Tom it feels like a goddamn eternity and a half.

They don’t speak. Tom won’t, worried that he might lose his nerve if he does, or that he’ll say something that could change Greg’s mind. And he doesn’t want that - he should, but he doesn’t. He actually wants to go through with this, insane and inappropriate and inadvisable as it is.

 _It’s cool,_ Tom tells himself. _It’s urban. It doesn’t mean I’m gay._ And they’re consenting adults. Plus, it’s all lawful under the unwritten stipulations of the ‘arrangement’.

_...Right?_

Tom’s heart is pounding, and he is struggling to keep his erection at bay. From the corner of his eye he can see that Greg is also having difficulties, crossing and uncrossing his legs, biting his lip, nervously tapping his fingers on his knee.

He wonders if his driver can tell, if he’s picking up on the vibes at all. Can he see in the rearview mirror how Greg is squirming in his seat, how his cheeks are flushed?

_God, I can’t wait to get that boy alone._

  
  


—

  
  


With a possessive hand on his lower back, Tom ushers his young friend in through the main entrance of his apartment building and into the elevator.

When the doors close, Tom lets his hand slide further down and he can hear Greg’s breath hitching in his throat.

Then they are finally inside, far from the prying eyes of the outside world. Greg grabs him by the wrist, and without a word he starts pulling him up the stairs to his bedroom.

“Oh, okay! Wow!” Tom laughs, momentarily stunned by this sudden and unexpected display of assertiveness from his young padawan.

However, the show of spontaneity is short lived; Greg stops him at the door to his bedroom and turns to him, looking him square in the eye.

“First, um,” he starts, “and I’m sorry I have to ask you this, but. Are you like… clean?”

“Am I what?”

“Yeah, no, that’s not really… a great word for it. I, um… are you, like, have you been tested?”

“Have I been tested?” Tom scoffs.

“Yeah, ‘cause like- you told me you and Shiv have this, uh, arrangement? Like, does she wear a-?”

“What, you think I’d let my wife just run around town taking all sorts of venereal swag bags home with her? God, Greg..!”

“No, okay, yeah,” Greg nods, but he still looks somewhat uncertain.

“Listen,” Tom sighs. “After all that bullshit with Nate, I did a full checkup just to see I that hadn’t been dealt any secondhand... communist crabs. Test came back clean as a whistle.”

“Right.”

“Shiv assures me that she is always protected, and I haven’t- well, I haven’t really been- you know.”

Greg breathes a sigh of relief.

“Oh. Okay, well. Good. ‘Cause like, I heard you can get HPV just through skin conta-”

“And what about you, Gregory?” Tom interrupts. “Are you _clean_?”

“Yeah, um. I don’t actually, like... you know, partake in carnal acts with any, uh, any great frequency.”

An amused grin now spreads across Tom’s face.

“Greg, are you trying to tell me that you’re a virgin?”

Blood rushes to Greg’s face and ears.

“No,” he huffs, “I just like, I’m not really into the whole... like the- the whole faceless, emotionless, see ya never, in-out-in-out... whatever... configuration.”

“Eloquent as ever, Gregory. Real turn-on.”

Greg sighs.

“I just... it has to feel right, y’know?”

Now it’s Tom’s turn to blush. The idea of Greg choosing _him_ , specifically, as opposed to just going home with some rando after a night on the town, the notion that it is him that is making Greg weak in the knees, and no one else... it makes Tom want him even more.

He moves forward, reaches out to grab Greg’s tie and tug on it, pulling him closer.

“Does it feel right with me, Greg?”

“Yeah,” he nods, eyelashes fluttering. “Yeah, Tom. It does. I mean in like... in a kinda wrong way, it does.”

That bashful little smile of his is just too fucking cute. A touch of blush spreads over his dimples. So pretty.

Tom aches to kiss him.

“So are you gonna invite me in, then, Gregory?” he asks. “Or will you just leave me out here on the stoop to fend for myself? Huh?”

When he leans in to smell his skin, Greg halts proceedings with a gentle hand against Tom’s chest.

“Just... one more thing.”

Tom sighs.

_God, what the fuck are we doing here?_

“Alright, Columbo. What is it now.”

“Shiv?” asks Greg, as if to echo the voice in Tom’s head. “Are you sure she’s like, cool with this? Would this, uh, would this count as, like, part of the arrangement?”

The question stumps Tom for a brief moment; he’s not entirely sure if this is, technically, part of their arrangement - but then again, what is? Shiv had made it pretty clear up at Argestes that any person known to her is off the table. Although Nia wasn’t actually known to her, as such... well, no more than that fucking actor from _Sands_ was known to Tom, anyway. So what exactly are the rules?

Perhaps there aren’t any rules. Perhaps the one solid rule is that Shiv can fuck anyone she likes without Tom being allowed to get jealous, whereas he can’t really fuck anyone without her getting jealous.

The funny thing is, he hadn’t even wanted to, really. Not until today. Or at least, he didn’t _know_ that he had wanted to until today.

_Gotta remember to thank Kay and Gabe for their service._

“No yeah, Shiv’s… she’s cool.”

Greg relaxes then, finally at ease.

“Oh okay, well… cool,” he stammers. “Shoes off, though.”

“I hope that’s not the only thing you want me to take off,” Tom teases as he grabs one of his shoes by the heel and slides it off.

Toeing out of his own shoes and kicking them to the side, Greg laughs softly.

He opens the door. Tom’s heart is in his throat.

“Come on in.”

  
  
  



End file.
